


I Said, What Did You Mean By Those Looks In Between?

by cynicalRaconteur



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicalRaconteur/pseuds/cynicalRaconteur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem is this: he has a wife, and it isn’t her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Said, What Did You Mean By Those Looks In Between?

It could not have been more stereotypical. He had been walking her home, which had seemed a generous offer when he made it, but he hadn’t factored in that her flat was actually nearly an hour’s walk away and they’d missed the last bus. His wife wasn’t going to be pleased, but then she was never pleased with anything he did. Including proposing, probably, since that seemed to be where it had all gone wrong.

She was walking next to him, a respectable distance which made him oddly uncomfortable. She had her arms crossed and her shoulders hunched, and she was shivering. She would be too proud to take his jacket if he held it out to her, he knew.

He threw it at her instead.

She yelped and batted it away, both hands. It landed on the pavement between them.

“I’m not picking it up.” Sally remarked, after a moment.

“Well,” Andrew countered. “I’m not leaving until somebody does.”

She walked off, laughing. They were tipsy, if not fully drunk, and she swerved wildly as she walked. Anderson watched her shoulders, pressed in with the cold and the line of them lurching like a seesaw, soft black curls skimming her shirt.

He cursed and grabbed his jacket from the ground, and ran after her, parallel to the ground for a few steps before jerkily straightening up. She heard him coming of course, and spun to face him, meandering backwards. Her face was lit up with laughter, and she had freckles each side of her nose.

“I don’t want it!” she called to him, swerving slightly into a wall, her arms flung out. “I’m fine! It’s not even cold!”

“It’s January!” he called after her, despairingly.

She didn’t care. She twirled in the freezing air and threw her head back: not laughing, but open-mouthed and smiling at the sky.

He caught up to her easily while she was distracted by the stars, and threw the jacket around her shoulders, keeping a tight grip. She wriggled, in vain.

“Take my jacket!” he yelled, laughing.

“No!” she giggled.

“Accept my generosity!”

“No!”

“Do it!” he commanded her, laughing so hard his ribs ached, punctuating his words by tugging the jacket closer. Tugging her closer.

She stopped moving very abruptly.

“Oh, okay then,” she conceded, and kissed him on the mouth.

He even kissed her back, for a while.

Then he pulled back, and murmured his marriage into her mouth.

“They gave me a certificate and everything,” he pointed out. She was a good investigator, she knew paper trails were everything.

“Hmm,” she said softly, eyes still shut and fingers gently sifting through his hair. “Well, there’s a shredder in my office.”

He laughed, and kissed her again.

She still didn’t put his jacket on, though.


End file.
